Long-Distance Love

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Long-Distance Love

Absolutely helpless to stop
the coming catastrophe
I can’t alter one iota
or offer any solace
that makes any sense
to the life of one I love
going down without a trace.

I can see his face
in the long-distance line,
hear the terror from entrapment,
all escape routes closed.

I knew this was coming
before it even began –
a risk he had to make
in adult-sized plans
with gambler’s odds against him
that I had to let happen
so he could learn that life isn’t fair,
especially for the foolish,
but failure isn’t final,
though it feels that way.

I have to let him sink without rescue
and let his hopes die,
trusting God to take care of him
when I can’t.


About the Author:

I never have found a box that fits me, so I follow Jesus into the wild. My husband, Bud, and I are two life-long hippies, parents of four grown children, and live in Bartlett, TN, with six cats, two dogs, and no TV. We are voracious readers and have loaded bookshelves in every room in the house except the kitchen and bathrooms. As a wordsmith, I write in long-hand everyday and use a computer by necessity. I am part of an eclectic group of Jesus-followers called Outlaw Preachers and have a passion for prison ministry. I am also an advocate for middle-aged and senior women, and anyone who suffers from depression. My musical tastes include Stevie Ray Vaughn, Joni Mitchell, old scratchy-record blues, and the great classical sacred choral works. One other thing: dark chocolate and garlic are major food groups, but not together.

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